


Lazarus

by kashinoha



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Supernatural - Freeform, non-crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/pseuds/kashinoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond dies in the rivers of Istanbul. Before he makes the deal. </p><p>All characters © Ian Fleming and Sam Mendes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus

   **Lazarus**  


 

It takes James Bond all of forty-seven seconds to realize that he is in shock. After another twenty he also realizes that he is running out of air.

The pain in his shoulder and side is muted and dulled, and the rush of the current in his ears is almost lulling.

_(like the song of a sea conch into the ear cavity)_

It couldn’t hurt to welcome the benthic world that awaits him; a soft bottom to land on and worries lost in the sand grains does not seem too terrible. All he needs to do is exhale, so very much like a woman in a cage so very long ago.

But then there are rocks. The damn rocks. Bond floats.

 

* * *

 

“You always did have a penchant for flashy exits, James.”

M has her legs crossed daintily in front of her, sitting on—on nothing at all, really. The tips of her designer Carvelas barely graze the river floor and a mackerel swims by her ankle. Strange. Bond squints.

“Since when do you call me James?” he asks.

M raises her eyebrows. “Since never,” she replies. “Unless your eyesight is failing too you should have noticed by now.”

Bond takes no note of the fish behind him or of the spider-crack patterns of sunlight dancing across the sand. He frowns, looks M over. She is as prim and proper as always, with an open-throated shirt and a black cardigan sweater draped over her shoulders. Regal even while casual; so like M, and yet, there is something…off. It’s something in the eyes, and then Bond notices.

There is an Algerian love knot around her neck.

“Oh,” he says, nonplussed. “Dead?”

M looks apologetic.

_(so so wrong on her face, even though it’s not really hers at all. How eldritch.)_

 “I’m afraid so, James.”

Bond huffs out a breath, or at least he imagines himself doing so. There are no bubbles. “Bugger.” He is silent for a moment. “Who are you, then?”

“Whoever you want me to be,” M answers, and gestures to her body. “I thought she would be the most comforting to you giving the, ah, _delicacy_ of these proceedings.”

It is a convincing trompe l’oeil, and Bond snorts, despite himself. His eyes narrow. “Proceedings?”

M smoothes out her skirt and looks into her lap, thoughtful. “See, people like you pop up occasionally and I never know where to put you,” she says. “You’re not good enough to float yet you don’t quite deserve to sink.”

“You can use the ‘H’ words; I was raised Catholic,” Bond says dryly.

“Yes, well.” M purses her lips. “They always dump you lot on me to deal with, and I find all the paperwork to be rather trite.” Bond quirks an eyebrow.

“I can allow you to return, or I can take you with me,” M says.

Bond thinks of dust and gunfire, of dry martinis; of the Queen. The decision is not a difficult one. “You already know what I’m going to say,” he says.

M lifts her head. The patterns of the sun play on her face, soft and lambent beneath a mile of water. “World’s gone to the dogs up there,” she says. “Why not enjoy a little peace and quiet? I daresay you deserve the break.”

“The real M would never say that,” Bond says, smirking.

M touches her necklace, smiles, and it is terrible. “No, of course she wouldn’t.”

“There’s still room in the world for an old hound, I reckon,” Bond says. He stares at his hand and is unsurprised to find that his fingers are not pruning.

 _(_ _Lazarus_ _come forth)_

“What will you do?”

Bond gives a shrug. “I’ve always liked the tropics.”

“Very well.” M stands up and the river floor around her billows with small clouds of sand. “But I will need something of yours in return.”

“An exchange,” Bond says, skeptical and yet mildly impressed. “Really. What do I have that you could possibly want?”

M ponders for a quarter-second. “Five years,” she says.

“I thought you wanted something valuable,” Bond replies, giving a light sneer.

“On the contrary,” M says. “You’ll find your reflexes dull, your fatigability greater, and your senses failing. After all,” she grins, “you’ll be a middle-aged man, James.”

“Lovely, coming from an old dried prune,” Bond grumbles. He is no longer smiling. “You know I never got to try Turkish raki. Heard it’s passable.” M is staring at him, waiting. Her short white hair swishes gently with the river current and the image is so clear for a moment that Bond has to remind himself that she is only a reflection, an eidolon of smoke.

 _(probably writing my obit now drinking_ _Earl_ _Grey_ _talking to that damn bulldog—)_

Bond sighs and graces M with his most professional agent stare. “Done,” he says.

M nods. “And so he rises from the waters of death yet again to return to the pound, lost old hound. Poor thing. Enjoy your raki.”

“You…” Bond trails off, for he senses a shape behind M, something blurred and disfigured, and he suddenly finds himself glad that his mind cannot quite process the image he is seeing. All he will remember, in his dreams, is that it had many eyes.

“Double-ohs never live long anyway,” he finds himself saying (more to himself than to anyone, and look, there are bubbles). “What’s five years?”

He senses only a smile in the water, then nothing.

And this is how James Bond finds himself at Ölüdeniz, on the shores of the Turquoise Coast at sunset, and if he feels an ache in his joints as he trudges toward the nearest villa on the sand he thinks nothing of it.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> This short piece was mostly for writing practice, since I haven't updated in a while, and is also my first time writing in this fandom. I hope you enjoy.


End file.
